Missing
by Knowing Grace
Summary: Ben recieves a telegram about his eldest that drags the Cartwright family into dispair.


_**Missing**_

_**By Annie K Cowgirl**_

Meteor*

Constellation*

Superlative*

Leo*

Radiant*

The telegram said "missing" and in that moment, the world stopped turning. Silence filled the room for what seemed like hours until Hoss found the courage to break it.

"Are they-are they sure, Pa?" His face was filled with worry—an emotion the man of twenty-two years shouldn't be acquainted with yet—his hands rubbed together of there own volition. Pulled from his revery by his middle son's question, Ben stared at the yellow piece of paper in his trembling hand, re-reading the terrible words stained forever in his minds eye:

REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR SON IS MISSING IN ACTION...

_Regret, what a funny way to tell me that my child is unaccounted for, probably—_No! He shook his head, he could not—dared not—finish the thought. His over-active imagination always seemed to get the better of him and all sorts of scenarios, each one even worse than the one before, filled his heart with dread. Finding his voice once more, he pushed the thought to the side; his family needed him to be strong.

"Yes." The word tore at his soul, but apparently he wasn't the only one to feel that pain. With a cry, the youngest Cartwright fled the room, the front door crashing shut in his wake. Hoss made as if to rise, but his father waved him back.

"Not now; leave him be for a while." The bigger man nodded his head slowly before rising and making his way up the stairs and to his own bedroom. With a groan, Ben dropped the letter into his lap and buried his face in his now empty hands.

"Oh, Adam!" He moaned. He hadn't seen his eldest in two years, not since he joined the 9th Massachusetts in hopes of keeping the country united. He remembered the day the boy—man rather—had stood in front of his desk and told him in no uncertain terms that he was signing up to fight in the war. Oh, Ben had tried his darnedest to dissuade his child from leaving, but in the end, Adam got his way; he left the very next day.

_"But what if something happens to you?" He had whispered in his ear, his fatherly fear getting the best of him as they waited for the stage to come in. His son just looked at him, giving him a radiant smile._

_ "I promise nothing will; relax, Pa, you worry too much." Those had been the last words Ben had heard Adam say before the coach took him away._

"You broke your promise, son, and I won't even get the satisfaction of telling you that." A single drop of water hit the discarded telegram; the tear was followed by another and another until the missive was no longer legible. And still they fell.

_Boom! _

The grandfather clock announced that nine pm had arrived startling Ben out of his slumber. His head jerked up and for a moment he wondered why he was slouched in his red leather chair instead of in bed. Wiping the drowse out of his bleary eyes, he pushed himself up from the seat, making the paper flutter to the floor. The moment he saw the crumpled parchment, it all came back to him with the speed and severity of a Northwester.

_Missing_, it was a dreadful word full of uncertainty. It meant lost, misplaced...gone. If he was gone...Ben didn't know how he would ever go on. Shaking the fear aside, a light from the window caught his attention. It was a lantern and in the soft glow, he could make out his youngest's form sitting on the corral fence. Of their own volition, his feet drew him out of the house towards the lone figure. When he was withing ten feet of his son, he halted unsure if he should go or stay.

"You don't have to worry about the horses, Pa, Leonard made sure they were all properly bedded down for the night." Joe's words lacked inflection and Ben knew why.

"That's good." There wasn't much else he could say to that. The crickets seemed to know that something serious was about to happen and so softened their chirruping to a dull hum.

"I'm sorry, Pa! I'm so sorry and I'll never get to tell him that!" In four giant strides, Ben closed the distance between them and placed a hand on his child's shoulder. The contact was the last straw for the teen and without warning he began to cry, gut wrenching sobs that left him breathless and shaky.

"That's it, boy, let it all out." Somehow, he found his arms wrapped around the youth, his fingers drawing slow soothing circles on his back. After a while, Joe drew back, drawing his jacket sleeve across his cheeks to rid them of their wetness.

"I'm sorry, didn't mean to get your shirt wet." He gave a hollow chuckle.

"No need to apologize, son."

"The last time I spoke to him we argued and it was about the stupidest thing. Now...now I'd give anything to tell him how I felt about him. He was the greatest, Pa!" The verb proceeding the superlative bothered Ben, but he held his tongue, knowing Joe wasn't through.

"Why couldn't I hold my peace for once, Oh God, I may never see him again!"

"Oh, Joseph, he knows, believe me he does. Don't dwell on the maybes, you will see him again and then you'll be able to tell him all the things you need to." Green eyes met brown and for a long time neither of them said anything.

"How do you know?" The question was barely audible, but it smote Ben in the heart. How _did_ he know? Fatherly intuition? No. He didn't really know, but something deep down inside of him whispered that Adam was alright.

"I just know." He said. As if in confirmation to his statement, something streaked across the darkened sky and both men peered up as one by one the stars seemed to fall from their perch in the heavens.

"Meteor shower." Ben murmured, staring in wonder as the constellations seemed to shine out all the brighter in the rain of light. For hours they stood there watching the nighttime performance, enjoying each others company and the peace that stole over their hearts.

"Do you think Adam can see this, wherever he is?" Joe wondered aloud. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of Ben's mouth.

"I'm sure he can, son, I'm sure he can."

~THE END

This story is loosely based on one of my favourite poems by Amy Carmichael; the words are copied below.

_**Missing**_

The telegram said "Missing" and she said,

"Would God that he were dead,

For this is worse." And for a terrible hour

The enemy had power.

And he painted grievous wounds,

Tortures unsuccoured,

Insults dastardly,

A lingering piteous death,

Or misery of crowded hospital

Or hateful prison.

All sights, all sounds, sharp-edged imaginings

That cut into the soul, had power with her,

Until she turned from all, and moaned, "My God!"

And God said to an angel, "Go to her,"

(He named the house and room),

"Show her the things that be."

The angel flew.

And shortly after she was made aware

Of movement all about her; and her gloom

Rolled up like a fog at dawn; a glorious air,

As from far mountains blown,

Like wine revived her spirit. She could see

On to blue distances—eternity

Opened its spaces; and she tasted powers

Of the world to come, and knew

As she was known;

Knew herself not forsaken.

Then as she waited, a great brooding calm

Filled all her being; and as dew

Rises in stillness from a field of flowers,

So from her heart, quieted now as any summer field,

Soft thoughts rose gently, soothing as a psalm

Familiar, cadenced; and she looked and saw

Deep into mysteries; but by the law

(Which rules the place to which she had been taken)

Directed, she was careful not to say

What she had seen, except, being free to tell

The comfortable world that healed

Her sorest hurt, she chose

This as the sweetest: that before they

Wrote her belovèd "Missing", One

Well-skilled in finding lost things said to those

Who stood about Him, "Lo, another son

Has need of Me," and went. . .

But where,

He did not tell;

Only she knew he found him. "It is well,"

She said aloud, being unaware

That she was home, till fearful, violent

As waters that have sudden broken bound,

Strong doubts turmoiled her. "Drown,"

They cried, "Yes, drown,

Poor foolish hope! Who heeds thee?" and they tossed

Its folly aside,

And shouted, whispered, cried

About her hope, "Drowned! Drowned!

The vision is vain

For he is lost!"

But she again

Affirmed her faith, and on the telegram crossed

The "Missing" out and wrote instead, "Nay, Found."

~Amy Carmichael from the book _Mountain Breezes_


End file.
